


my heart still thumps as i bleed

by PinkCanary



Series: three points (where two lines meet) [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Polyamory, Strap-Ons, endgame Bravenlarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkCanary/pseuds/PinkCanary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Raven spend five years looking, but they never <i>wait</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart still thumps as i bleed

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been hit by a bit of writer's block over the last couple weeks, but then a lovely anon asked for Clarke/Raven in the 'three points (where two lines meet)' verse. And, to be perfectly honest, I've actually given a lot of thought to this, so... here we are.
> 
> This takes place at the same time as 'three points (where two lines meet)', during the five years that Clarke and Raven are together and looking for Bellamy. I highly suggest you read that fic first, or else this isn't going to make a whole lot of sense. This is endgame Bravenlarke, just in case there is any confusion with the Clarke/Raven tag.
> 
> Title is from Tessellate by Alt-J.

Raven never really expected this whole soulmate thing to be easy. 

Let’s face it, it just seemed so _stupid_. The idea that these names on her skin could dictate who she would like, and who she would love. 

Complete and total bullshit. 

Of course, nothing ever seems to work the way that Raven expects, anyway.

*

Raven has been in love before, but she still isn’t quite sure what to do with _this_.

Clarke’s laptop is perched on Raven’s thighs, and Elizabeth Swan is trash-talking some pirate, but she definitely stopped paying attention to the plot at least twenty minutes earlier. Clarke is wearing a tank top, and her shoulder is pressed against Raven’s shoulder, and she maybe considers for a moment that the feeling of warm skin against her own is overwhelming in a way that sitting and watching a movie with a friend should absolutely not be.

Not that she is thinking about it, of course.

I mean, they hadn’t even really _talked_ about it. When Clarke had walked into their shared dorm room, it had taken her a few seconds of her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, before she could even come up with a suitably snarky one-liner. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that Clarke could be a _girl_ — had never even stopped to consider that she might be attracted to girls — but suddenly there was Clarke, with her ocean-blue eyes and her shy smile, and _completely fucking gorgeous_.

Again, not that she had thought about it.

Beyond the initial confirmation that they were, in fact, soulmates, they hadn’t really spoken about it, at all. Which seemed like it should be weirder. But the friendship part had come easily — she found it easier to just _not_ question the immediate rush of fondness that she felt for the other girl — and they were just _together_ all of the time. Raven definitely did not believe in _meant to be_ , but given the time, the opportunity, and the way that Clarke looked at her when she thought that Raven wasn’t watching? 

Oh yeah, if anything was going to happen, it was _going to happen_.

Clarke’s head dropped down to Raven’s shoulder, sleepy and comfortable, and she found herself tugging Clarke in closer to her body. The other girl let out a contented sigh, her breath warm against Raven’s neck. 

The fluttering feeling in her stomach was new, but she wasn’t entirely sure that she didn’t like it.

*

A few weeks later, Raven is the one falling asleep in Clarke’s bed, the sensory memory of Clarke’s lips on her own. Clarke is actually _spooning_ her, which is kind of hilarious, but strangely just _fits_. 

They still haven’t talked about the whole thing, but maybe there isn’t actually that much to talk about. 

Clarke’s breath is warm and damp against the nape of Raven’s neck, as she presses an open-mouthed kiss just below Raven’s hairline. She shivers, and she can feel Clarke smiling into her skin in response. 

*

It’s just a few days later when Clarke finds Bellamy’s name on her ribcage, and _oh_ , maybe they should have talked about _that_.

*

Still, everything is just _good_.

“You’re just fucking wrong, okay? Do you even know what ‘drift compatible’ means?” Raven’s voice is raising as she speaks, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. At least she isn’t slurring yet, but she’s well on her way. 

The blonde guy with the moustache from her engineering class — she feels like she should remember his name, but it’s just beyond her reach — is grinning at her like she’s the best thing he’s seen in weeks. _Ugh._

“Maybe I need a bit of a demonstration.” He tells her, and his voice is so slippery that she can practically feel the slime.

She is saved from having to respond when Clarke practically tackles her from the side, throwing her arm over her shoulder. “Everything okay here, Rae?” She asks, her mouth right next to Raven’s ear. 

Clarke’s hair is tousled and her cheeks flushed, whether from the overly-warm house party, or from the red Solo cups that she had been downing just a minute earlier as she played beer pong on the other side of the room. Either way, she is way prettier than anyone has any right to be, and _right on time_ , and Raven is so grateful that she could kiss her.

And, well, there is really no reason _not to_ , and so she does.

When they finally pull apart, the slimeball is looking between them like he’s watching a tennis match, his jaw hanging open. 

“Are you two…?” He asks, when he finally finds his voice.

“Uh huh.” Clarke answers. Her eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“We’re drift compatible.” Raven throws in, almost as an afterthought, and Clarke laughs, loud and bright and right in her ear. 

“C’mon.” Clarke says, tugging Raven’s hand as she begins walking away. “It’s too hot in here. Let’s go make out in the backyard.”

And Raven can only shrug in the guy’s direction, because _who would turn down that offer_ , before she’s being dragged across the room and towards the back door. 

“Thanks.” Raven finally murmurs against Clarke’s lips, a few minutes later. Clarke has her pushed up against the brick wall of the house, and Raven’s hand is up and under Clarke’s t-shirt, her thumb rubbing absent circles against Clarke’s hipbone. “By the way.”

Clarke pulls away just enough so that she can meet Raven’s eyes; her pupils are wide and dark, almost eclipsing the vibrant blue irises. 

“No problem.” She says, soft. “I mean, what’s the point of being drift compatible, if we can’t sense when the other is in danger?”

Raven snorts, and she has to bury her laugh into Clarke’s neck. 

That seems fair.

*

The whole thing should just be weirder.

Clarke drags Raven home with her for their summer break. Won’t even consider ‘no’ for an answer. 

“We’re a package deal, now.” She says, fierce and defiant, and yeah, Raven actually believes her. Because who wouldn’t, when she looks like that.

Abby doesn’t even question it. When she first says Raven’s name, like she’s been waiting her entire life to utter the syllables, Raven can see the profound _relief_ on her face. She smiles, tells Clarke to take Raven’s things to her room like it’s an inarguable fact that they’ll be sharing a bed (it is), and gives them space to settle in. Within a few days, she has been set up with a summer internship that she is _absolutely positive_ pays more than she is worth at this point in her life but, well, gift horses and all that.

When they go back to school in September, they lug their boxes and bags up to their shared dorm room, and unpack together. Raven’s clothing is thrown in with Clarke’s, her calculus text books nestled in the same box as Clarke’s biology ones. 

_Package deal,_ she can’t help thinking as she stares down at the books, and yeah, that seems just about right.

*

In junior year, they get an off-campus apartment together. 

They spend the first day carrying box after box up the stairs to their third floor apartment, and Raven doesn’t even remember collapsing on to their air mattress at the end of the day.

She does, however, remember waking up the next morning.

The sun has been high in the sky for hours, and the apartment is uncomfortably warm, because they haven’t yet hung the curtains to block out the light. Still, she’s comfortable, and Raven’s mind teeters at the edge of consciousness, only aware of the comforting warmth of Clarke’s chest pressed against her back, and her breath stirring the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Clarke’s hand is cupping her hip, and her fingers are dipping down to trace the line of her hipbone, the flat of her stomach. When Clarke’s fingers sneak down to the warmth between her thighs, Raven snaps awake. Not with a jolt, but more like a _crackle_. Like the way that the air feels before a thunderstorm, heavy and damp and full of anticipation. 

If Clarke is aware that Raven has woken up, she shows no sign. Her fingers continue to stroke through Raven’s folds, gathering wetness and painting through it, like she is working at her easel with a brush. 

Raven tries to keep still, but after another minute, it just becomes _too much_ and her hips move unconsciously, trying to direct Clarke to where she wants her the most. 

Still, Clarke says nothing; it’s like they’re cocooned in their bubble of warmth and sleepy contentment, and neither of them are willing to break the spell. But Clarke’s fingers focus, circling quickly and purposefully, and it’s all Raven can do to grasp her free hand and hold on. 

She comes quietly, with a gasp and with her hips pressed against Clarke’s, her harsh breathing the only noise in the silence of their new apartment. When she finally turns in Clarke’s arms so that she can press her lips against Clarke’s — the two of them both smell of sleep and sweat from the day before, and most definitely morning breath, but it’s never bothered either of them before — the other woman hums happily against her mouth.

“You were too tired to christen the new apartment last night.” Clarke says, her lips twisting into a wry smile.

Raven has given up all pretence of being cool at some point in the last two years, and so she just allows the wide grin to spread across her face. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” And then she rolls Clarke on to her back, the air mattress complaining noisily beneath them.

*

And then there are days like this.

“Do you think he’s lonely?” Clarke asks one evening, her finger idly tracing along the outside seam of Raven’s jeans. Her head is pillowed in Raven’s lap as they lie on the couch, and her eyes are dark and earnest as she looks up to meet Raven’s surprised gaze. 

She doesn’t even have to ask who she is talking about. 

The truth is, of course she thinks about it. She thinks about it when she wakes up in Clarke’s arms in the morning, and when Clarke smiles at her across the breakfast table while they drink their coffee. She thinks about it when they check in with each other between classes, dorky little text messages filled with stupid emoticons. She thinks about it when Clarke whispers, “I love you,” into her skin, when she ducks her head down to lay a line of kisses across her stomach, and as they hold each other while the sweat dries on their skin and their breathing evens. Hell, she even thinks about it when they bicker over Netflix, or take-out choices. 

“I think that…” She starts, before trailing off and starting again. “I hope that he isn’t waiting for us. I mean, we’re certainly not waiting for _him_.”

They’re silent for a long moment, and Raven brings her hand down to thread through Clarke’s tangled blonde curls. 

“I just feel… guilty.” Clarke finally says, quiet. “How can we be this happy, when he’s still out there somewhere, by himself?”

There isn’t an answer to the question, and Raven knows Clarke well enough by now to know that she doesn’t expect one.

*

Raven’s twenty-second birthday arrives, and Clarke actually cooks her dinner. 

She picks up an actually decent bottle of wine, too, and they’re buzzed and giggly by the time that Clarke pulls a box of birthday cupcakes out of the fridge. 

“We’re so fucking married.” Raven chokes out, between bites of Red Velvet cupcake. “Just last year, we were getting trashed in some club on our birthdays, and now here we are, drinking wine at home and probably going to bed before 11:00.”

“We both have class in the morning!” Clarke protests, her voice equal parts indignant and amused. 

“Married.” Raven tries to keep her face stern and stoic. “So fucking married.”

And when Clarke hands over a wrapped gift a few minutes later, and her face flushes a deep scarlet? 

“I don’t know if this makes us more or less married.” Raven says, contemplative, as she studies the back of the box. It’s a sex toy. Blue and L-shaped, with a bulb on one end and… more or less phallic on the other. She can pretty much get the gist of how it’s used by reading the box, but that doesn’t stop her from looking at Clarke with curiosity.

“I know that you like toys, and we don’t have anything like this.” She says, refusing to meet Raven’s eyes. She’s trying to play it cool but, as usual, Raven can see entirely through her.

“You know, Griffin, if you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask.” Raven said, smirking and raising one eyebrow. 

Oh yeah, this is definitely something that she’s into. 

The toy has a bit of a learning curve. It takes just a little bit of patience to get it to stay in place once Raven inserts the bulb-shaped end into herself, but the way that Clarke’s eyes glaze over as she watches makes the entire thing worth it, before they even _really_ get started.

Clarke is biting her lip unconsciously, and Raven lowers her head down to catch the corner of her lips with her own. Clarke’s breath catches, and Raven can’t help grinning at her eagerness. 

“How do you want to do this?” Raven asks.

Clarke looks apprehensive for the first time; just a little bit out of her depth. She is laying on her back and staring up at Raven as she hovers above her. “Is it okay, just like this?”

“Oh fuck, yeah. This way I get to watch you.” Raven says, in a low raspy voice that she isn’t used to hearing from her own mouth. 

She starts off with her hands and mouth, and she almost completely loses her cool when she realizes just how turned on Clarke is at just at the thought of being _fucked_. She’s wet, and _responsive_ under Raven’s tongue, and her hips almost arch off of the bed when Raven slides two fingers inside.

“Fuck, Raven, stop teasing.” Clarke finally begs, desperate and just _gone_ , and Raven feels her own muscles clench down on the toy inside of her.

She slides the toy inside Clarke slowly, carefully watching her face for any signs of pain or discomfort. But Clarke’s mouth only falls open blissfully, especially once Raven is fully sheathed within, and the base of the toy grinds against her clit. They both groan in unison, before Clarke’s eyes flutter open to meet hers with a smile of pure delight.

It takes a minute, and just a little bit of experimentation, to figure out a rhythm that works for the both of them, but it isn’t long before Clarke’s hips are canting upwards, meeting Raven’s hips thrust for thrust. It’s just a little awkward at first, but the bulb bumps against her g-spot with each grinding motion, and it feels fucking amazing, like she’s actually _inside_ of Clarke. 

And by the time that Clarke’s hips tense below hers, a soft cry escaping her lips as she falls apart, Raven is already chasing her own orgasm. Her thrusts are quick and grinding, angled just right so that her clit hits the ridges on the top of the toy as she moves. When she opens her eyes for just a moment, she can see that Clarke is watching her, a strange mix of fascination and arousal on her face, just inches away from Raven’s own. It’s that look that pushes her that little bit over the edge, and Clarke groans out her encouragement as Raven thrusts against her, shaky and uncoordinated. 

“Okay, that was a fantastic idea.” Clarke finally manages, after Raven has collapsed on top of her, the piece of silicone still pinned between them. 

“Don’t be smug.” She says, and Clarke just laughs, totally smug.

And yeah, maybe Raven doesn’t even care. And doesn’t even care that Clarke totally knows.

*

She’s midway through her first semester of grad school, when their entire world suddenly _changes_.

It’s true, they’ve basically been _looking_ for five years, but they’ve never really talked about it. Never really talked about what it would mean for them. The idea of actually _finding Bellamy Blake_ has always been so abstract, that she couldn’t even imagine what it would look like. 

As it turns out, it looks like hesitant hopeful smiles, shared over lukewarm cups of coffee. And Raven’s breath catches in her chest and her heart hammers wildly, just like it did the first time.

*

And then there are days like this.

“Were you lonely, before?” Raven asks, one evening, as they are curled up on the couch. Her head rests in Bellamy’s lap and his fingers tangle into the fine hair at the nape of her neck. 

He gazes down at her, thoughtful, before finally answering. “I don’t know if I’d say that I was lonely. I probably would have been, if I had known that you two were already together.” He shrugs, and his smile is lopsided. “I had no idea of what I was missing.”

She nods, and her cheek rasps against the coarse fabric of Bellamy’s jeans. That sounds about right.

Maybe Raven never expected this whole soulmate thing to be easy but, of course, nothing ever works the way that Raven expects, anyway.


End file.
